The Dream
by damnyankee
Summary: What if? Let's just take a trip back in time and see maybe, if we start things over, they can turn out a little better...No spoilers...
1. She awakens

She awoke with a start, gasping for air. How long had she been asleep? The ache in her body told her it had been years, though the clock enlightened her to the fact that it had really only been a few hours.  
The night was dark around her, the silence deafening. Her sleep had been restless with worrisome dreams. Had any of it happened for real? She couldn't remember what was the truth now and what was not, but she was eager to put the unconscious thoughts behind her.  
She climbed out from under her covers, the butterflies falling softly to the bed as she placed her feet on the floor. Ooh, it was cold! How is it that, even in May, it could be so cold in Chicago? It's like this city lives by it's own seasons, she thought, as she made her way to the kitchen. I might as well stay up now; I don't want to go back to sleeping if I'm going to have more dreams like that. As she put the kettle on for tea, she was startled by a stirring behind her. She turned, and was shaken by the sight before her.  
"Carter," she mouthed, the word coming out as a breath escaping. Her hand flew to her mouth, worry that she might wake him causing her to not want to speak aloud. He was asleep on the couch, simultaneously peaceful and frantic. How long had he been there? Why was he here? What was she going to do? 


	2. The moments we had

She stood like that, gazing at Carter, stunned into immobility. Time passed, and she considered her options. She could go about her business, waiting for him to wake up, hoping he wouldn't wake up before she left. She could wake him up and talk to him about everything. But was she even ready to talk to him? Had she decided how she even felt about all that had happened between them? In that case, she could just wake him up and kick him out. Tell him to get the Hell out of her apartment, and what right did he have to just let himself in, anyway? He had left without any real intention of telling her he was leaving, ran off to the African jungle to save lives, or whatever, and didn't even consider how she might feel. Didn't he? Was she being unfair?  
Her emotions had built up all around her in the two weeks he'd been gone, so much so that she couldn't find her way out. All she knew for sure was that he'd hurt her, more deeply than she knew how to express. Not only had he left without apparently meaning to tell her that he was going, but he hadn't contacted her in all the time he'd been gone. Before all this crap had happened, they'd been practically living together, and then the shit just hit the fan all at once: Eric got sick and needed her help, Gamma died, and then Eric...oh, Eric. He hadn't meant to do any of that stuff, but he'd just walked right in and made a mess of everything. No, I made a mess of everything, she thought to herself. But Carter did, too. He turned away from me in the same way he'd always accused me of turning away from him. What was I supposed to do? Abandon my brother to the disease that was going to destroy him? I had almost lost him to suicide, to himself, and I wasn't going to risk that again...But now, I think I may have lost Carter instead...  
And then, there was the dream she'd just had. You know how you can have a dream about someone, and it makes you so angry at them, but they didn't actually do anything? It's so unreasonable, but you can't help it; you're pissed. That was the dream Abby had just had. Carter came back from the Congo, only it wasn't this trip; he had come back and gone back again because...why? Oh, yeah, because Luka...Luka, they had thought he was dead, but he really wasn't. So Carter went back to find him, and sent Luka back with a letter. A letter for her. A letter that pretty much gave her the brush off and told her they were over, but with only vague explanations. "It's not you, it's me," it said. Such bullshit! And somehow, the whole ER read it, and she was so ashamed. Because it proved she wasn't good enough, that she'd screwed up the only non-screwed-up thing in her life and it had left her with nothing. Empty, a vacuum of sadness.  
  
So what had she done? So unlike her, she'd picked up the pieces of her life and decided to go back to medical school. She'd braved asking Richard for a favor, made him cosign a loan, and gone back to school. And then...oh, and then Carter came back. With someone. Someone pregnant. And beautiful, and together, and ten minutes after he had written his "Dear Abby" letter. Such a funny joke, that title. Normally an allusion to asking for advice, not writing off a year long relationship.  
As Abby remembered her dream, she broke out of her daze and returned to the stove, where the kettle was starting to whistle. Shit! She thought, hoping the sound didn't wake the sleeping doctor behind her. She removed it from the burner, and glanced back around to see if he had stirred. Nope, still sleeping like a baby, she commented to herself. I don't blame him; it must've been a long trip home—I mean, back. No, this wasn't really home for him anymore, was it? Not after abandoning her the way he had. Abandoned? Was that what had happened? Does leaving without really saying goodbye count?  
Abby poured the hot water into her mug, letting the bag absorb the liquid and create her soothing beverage. Her thoughts returned to the dream...Ah, yes, Carter had returned with a British "chippy", who was carrying their love child. Kem, Abby recalled, the name filling her mouth with an awful taste. She had toured the hospital, being inquisitive and talkative and so...unlike Abby. He had seemed happy, but not Carter happy. Just...deliriously happy. Existing in some kind of suspended reality. And Abby and Carter didn't talk, not really. He visited her when she was on her NICU rotation, making some comment about her being a good doctor, and Abby had commented that he would be a good father. Now, awake, she remembered the comment painfully, as she realized that she herself had dreamed of the children they might one day have. Not that she had ever told him. Not that she ever had the courage to tell him the barest truths about herself, like that she had been scared to have children with Richard, and that she had had an abortion. Or that with Carter, those fears seemed to disappear because their love was so...what? It certainly hadn't been perfect, though that's what she'd wanted to say. The perfection in their relationship came when no one else was involved. Not Eric, not Maggie, not Gamma, not anyone. In those moments when they were just...them. Simple.  
Although, it's not as if those moments were all that common, or all that long-lived. In their year together, it seemed that they could only hang onto those moments very briefly. Ah, but they were wonderful. Chaos and all.  
She smiled sadly to herself, thinking of this, and sat down with her tea at the kitchen table. She allowed herself, for an instant, to look up at Carter, still dozing on the couch, and the smile drifted from her face. He seemed more peaceful, as if whatever uncomfortable thoughts had been running through his brain had ceased. What had he seen in the Congo? Abby could only begin to imagine the sickness, the death, the suffering. Does that change a person? And if so, how much? Would he even be the same Carter she had known only two weeks ago?  
Once again, her mind drifted back to her dream, only ended not a half hour before, and she look down into her tea. There wasn't much else to it; Kem had returned to Africa, leaving a destitute and insomniac Carter behind. And yet...he was still more optimistic, seemingly, than he had been when with Abby. Had she really dragged him down so?  
Now the anger she had felt from the dream turned to sadness and grief for what she had lost when Carter got on that plane to the Congo. No, he hadn't really returned with a pregnant girlfriend, no, Abby wasn't back in medical school, but there was a distance between them, a palpable distance. One that would take a thousand expert engineers to build a bridge over. 


	3. And yet

Carter still slumbered peacefully on the couch an hour later, now covered by a blanket that Abby had very carefully placed over him. She had to get ready for work, her shift was starting in less than two hours, but the situation was so incredibly awkward, she didn't know what to do. If he woke up anytime between now and the time she left, they wouldn't have time to really talk, and things, as usual, would be left incomplete. If he slept until after she left, who knows when they would next get an opportunity to connect?  
He obviously wanted to talk, right? He hadn't come here, in the middle of the night, directly after returning from the Congo, to just fall asleep on her couch...? But in the past two months or so, Abby had had no luck in reading Carter's thoughts. In particular, since Gamma died, he'd put up a wall that Abby could not see around. She knew that she'd hurt him, she knew that she had made a difficult choice that he could not understand, but what else could she have done?  
And yet...There had been problems before the funeral. Who knows when exactly they started? Was it the night Carter came home to find her drunk after finding out Eric was missing? Or was it later, when Carter didn't propose, because something...just wasn't right? Whenever it was, their grip on whatever they had been growing for two years had slowly and imperceptibly lessened until now, here they were, without a clue as to how to fix it.  
Abby slipped into the steaming shower, trying to simultaneously get ready for work and clear her head. She wanted so badly to just hide from Carter indefinitely. She wasn't equipped to deal with these things; she was so used to not expressing her true emotions. But Carter always seemed to know, anyway. Always had a way of doing or saying just the right thing to make her better. At least, he used to.  
That night, when she had found that ring, something in her broke. She had hoped so much that this time, this relationship, this man...but again, it had fallen apart. Maybe not completely, maybe not in a final way, but to Abby, all she needed was to know that he had changed his mind. That, given the chance to think about it, he had decided that spending his life with her wasn't enough. And that was fine because she was used to it, she was used to the let down, and frankly it was too hard trying not to disappoint him. It was inevitable, it continually happened, and this way must just be better.  
And yet...and yet. There it was. She loved him; she knew it, she hoped he knew it, and God knows she couldn't stop it. She wanted to, she wanted so badly to stop it, because this is where loving him landed her. Why was it always so complicated? Whatever happened to their afternoon delight? How could they so quickly go from making love in the afternoon to this: him running away to Africa and her alone?  
It was so easy at this point to just blame it on herself, but now, standing in the shower, she got angry. 'This time it is most certainly not all my fault. I know I've made mistakes, I know I've screwed up, and I know my family is crazy,' she thought. 'But damn it, Carter, I said I was sorry! I asked you for forgiveness for something that was out of my control, and you couldn't even offer me that. How could you ask me to choose my brother over you? All I wanted to do was hold you, tell you everything would be okay, and you pushed me away. Maybe I shouldn't have left when you told me to, maybe I should have just held on, but I'm not made like that.'  
Abby shut off the water, pulled the curtain back and stepped out of the shower, trying to do so quietly despite her raging fury. This time her anger was based on reality, not a dream, and it made it all the more intense. She wanted to storm around, slam doors and punch Carter in the stomach, but she couldn't. She knew if she had to face him she would fall apart, and she couldn't do that in front of him. Not now.  
Unfortunately, he wasn't going to give her that choice.  
Wrapped in her bathrobe, a towel on her head, she opened the door to the bathroom, and there, sitting on her bed, wide awake, was the reason for her emotional roller coaster ride. Now she felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach. And all she could do was freeze there, holding the door. 


	4. A Confrontation

"Hey," He said, just loud enough for her to hear. He smiled slightly, unsure of how to be, how she felt. When she didn't respond, the smile fell and he raised one eyebrow, questioning her, wanting her to help him, wanting to know if they were okay.  
"Hey," she responded finally, the rhythm of their greeting returning to what it always was. She hesitated, not knowing where to go from there, but then an old instinct kicked in: run. "I--Carter, I've got to get to work. I'm on in 45 minutes, and you know Weaver, she'll kick my ass if I'm late, and I—"as she spoke, she moved forward purposefully into the room, looking for her bra. He stood up, moved towards her, wanting her just to stop, talk to him. He reached out and touched her arm, wrapping his hand around her wrist. She stood up and ceased what she was doing, looking out the window, away from him.  
"Abby, please," he said, again just loud enough for her to hear. He waited for her to answer, and when she said nothing, he continued. "Please look at me, Abby. I missed you." Again, she said and did nothing, so he reached up and turned her face towards him, a face that was a conundrum of emotions: anger, sadness, confusion, and love. They stood like that for a while, his hand on her face, his thumb caressing her cheek, and she a silent statue, neither knowing how to speak to the other. After what seemed a lifetime, Abby finally spoke, her voice barely audible.  
"John—Carter, I have to get to work. I know that we need to talk, but I—I just, I have to get to work." She turned away from him then, away from his soft hands and soothing eyes. She bent down to pick up her bra and started for the dresser to get her underwear when he again encircled her wrist with his hand, this time more firmly.  
"Come on, Abby, don't do this—"he started soothingly, but she stopped him this time, turning back angrily.  
"Don't do what, Carter? Don't walk away from you? Don't go about my life as if you weren't here?" She pulled her arm from his grasp and backed away two steps. "I know I've been putting my life on hold for my family for a long time, Carter, but you just told me to stop doing that. So, you know what? I'm not going to put my life on hold until you can find it in yourself to forgive me, or until you decide that this—us—can work." And with that, she turned to the dresser, pulled out her underwear, stalked into the bathroom and slammed the door.  
"Forgive you?" Confused, Carter walked up to the bathroom door and knocked. When he got no response, he spoke to the wooden door. "Abby, I know that what happened with Eric is not your fault. And, I guess it doesn't matter whether I think you should have handled it differently...I—well, I was hurting, Abby. You have to know that. People do stupid things when they're in pain, like take it out on the people they care most about." He paused, listening for a response. Her only reply was the sound of her sitting down on the toilet, and clearing her throat. He could hear the faint rustling of what he assumed was her putting on her scrubs, so he continued. "I went to Africa because...I don't know how to explain it. I was mad at you, I was mad at my father--Hell, I was mad at Gamma for dying...but mostly, Abby, I was—I am—pissed at myself. I ignored her when she wanted to talk to me the day before she died, for God's sake. How am I supposed to deal with that? The woman who was more a mother to me than my own mother—" He stopped then, because tears were starting to fall down his cheeks. He wiped them away, taking a deep breath. He continued. "Abby, I don't know what else to say. Please come out and talk to me. I want to work this out with you. You can call Weaver, tell her you have a family emergency...Please, Abby." Again, he waited for her answer, and for a while it seemed he wouldn't get it. When, after almost five minutes, he didn't hear anything, he slammed his palm against the door and started to leave. He picked up his jacket from the sofa where he'd thrown it, and stormed his way to the front door. His hand on the knob, he hesitated, sensing movement behind him. He lingered briefly, and turned. Standing in the doorway to her bedroom was the woman he loved, the dearest thing to him in the world. She had the gleam of tears in her eyes, and she was looking right at him, in that way she had that always floored him, seeming to be so strong yet so broken, all at once.  
And neither of them said anything, for what seemed a long time. 


	5. Reconciliation

Author: damnyankee

Rating: PG-13, for some strong language

Summary: Continuing our saga of "what if?"  Abby never woke up with Carter sitting on her bed, never asked for her key back, and thus all of the nightmare that has been season 10 didn't actually happen.  It was all a very bad dream…so, what happens instead?  Find out…

Author's Note: Thank you all for your kind reviews!  It's nice to hear that you like what I have to say; I haven't written anything in a long time, and I'm so glad to be doing it again!!  Oh, and bear with me on this chapter…this is where my perception of what's going on in their heads becomes choppy, and I want to stay as true to them as I can.

Disclaimer: Yeah, I didn't know that I should do this, so I'm doing it now: I don't own ER, or the characters.  I just love their wacky complications and want to play!

Chapter 5 of The Dream:  Reconciliation

Minutes passed, and finally the intensity of the two gazing at each other became too much for Abby, and she turned her eyes away.  It was then that Carter noticed the cigarette in her hand, which she drew to her mouth, taking a long, slow drag.  He looked down, disappointed.  She looked back up at him, pointedly, returning the hand her cigarette was in to her side.

            "I know," she answered to his unasked question.  "I thought…I **am** done with this, this smoking, I just…" she tried to explain, but couldn't.  "Whatever, it doesn't matter," she continued, looking down and laughing sadly.  She brought her hand back up to her face, absent-mindedly scratching at her forehead with her pinky, careful not to burn herself.  She moved forward into the living room, stopping at the side of the couch.  Carter still stood at the door, waiting, watching, wondering what would happen next, whether he should speak.  Sometimes, with Abby, it was better just to wait.  She looked back up at him, meeting his eyes.  "I called Weaver."  This time, it was she who waited for his response.  He shifted in the doorway.

            "So…so, we can talk?"  He conjectured, a small hint of hope returning.  

            "Yeah, Carter, we can talk."  She took another drag of her cigarette, then put it out in a nearby empty can of Diet Coke.  She crossed her arms in front of her as Carter took a couple of steps into the room.  "I guess it's my turn, huh?"  He nodded slowly.  

            "If you want…I mean, Abby, if you don't want to talk, you don't have to.  If you're not ready, if you're too angry--I just…"  He trailed off, sensing that maybe he should have just stayed quiet.  She smiled slightly at him, letting him know that it was okay.  He smiled back, pleased at the encouragement.

            "It's okay, John," she replied, still not quite comfortable with the name, but knowing he needed to hear her say it.  To know that things were okay.  But, were they?  She settled onto the couch, looking down at the floor in front of her, hands between her knees, trying to think of what to say first.  She took a deep breath, and said the first thing she could think.  "What time did you get in?"  She looked up at him, cautiously.

            "Um…5, 5:30, I guess," he answered, scratching his head.  He moved even further into the room, slowly, stopping just before the couch.  He thought to himself that sometimes, dealing with Abby was like trying to wrangle a wild animal.  You had to make slow, small movements so as not to startle her.  "I came straight here.  I didn't even th—I didn't want to be anywhere else."  He moved a step closer, now standing directly in front of the couch, on the opposite side of the one she was sitting on.  When he did this, she returned her gaze to the floor, as if in submission to what he meant to do.  At this, he sat carefully, quietly on the sofa.  "I sat by you; you looked so peaceful sleeping there, I didn't want to wake you."  He reached his hand out, grazing her leg with his fingers, settling them there briefly.  "I couldn't help but notice that you were sleeping on my side of the bed…"  

            "Yeah, well, I was tired, I didn't notice where I was sleeping," she said, cutting him off, standing up quickly.  She was uncomfortable with his presumption that she missed him, that in his absence she yearned for him, so much that she actually slept where he normally lay.  

            Carter, startled by her action, stood too, his hand tingling where it had touched her leg a few seconds before.  It had been so long since they had been that way.  Not sexual, not passionate; just affectionate, kind, gentle.  Her abrupt and angry reaction to his small act of tenderness hurt him, but somehow he knew that he deserved it.  He had known deep inside she wouldn't let him get off that easily, but he had hoped too much too soon.  Now he hoped to make reparations for his premature affections.

            Abby ran her fingers through her hair, noticing that he, too, had stood.  Feeling awkward, she walked toward the kitchen, putting distance between them, hoping to clear her head.  Not for the first time that morning, she felt overwhelmed.  She stopped at the counter, putting her hands down on it to obtain balance.  She felt drunk, unsteady, and she just wanted it to stop.  She just wanted to know what to say or do to make this stop.  She wanted to just know who was right and who was wrong and how much and how to forgive.  How both of them could forgive the other for what had happened in the past few months.  

            She felt a presence behind her, and remained still, not knowing what to expect.  Then, suddenly, she felt his arms around her, encircling her waist, his face in her neck.  Not kissing, not arousing, just…there.  Comforting.  Finally, at long last, exactly what she wanted at exactly the right time.  She fought it, though, in typical Abby fashion, trying hard not to give in to loving him.  She was still angry and unbelievably hurt by the way he had left, and didn't know what could be done to fix that.

            "I'm sorry," he mumbled into her neck.  He lifted his head, and turned her around to face him.  He tilted her chin up so that she had to look in his eyes, lowering his face to hers when she tried to avoid them.  He kept his hand there, on the side of her face, cupping her jaw.  His other hand was placed behind her back, gently holding her there.  Again, like a wild animal, Abby needed to be reassured of security and gently held in place once reigned in.  "Please just listen to me for a minute."  She nodded her head, hesitatingly. She had no real choice, did she?   Her hands remained planted on the counter, now behind her, but she couldn't go anywhere.   "I know that you're not perfect.  Hell, I know **I'm** not perfect.  Together, we don't make perfect.  And I also know that lately, I've been even less perfect than usual.  I've been distant, moody—an asshole."  She blinked at him, glanced down, and he waited until she looked back up at him to continue.  "I don't know what to say about it, Abby.  We've got work to do.  We've got things to work out.  And I don't know…maybe we're not supposed to be together.  Maybe we've done this all wrong, and ruined it.  I don't have answers for anything."  He stopped again, pausing, not knowing how to carry on.  Abby brought her hand up to the one that was on her face, and slowly brought it down to his waist.  She held them together there.  Carter cocked an eyebrow, confused by her actions.

            "I don't have any answers either," she said finally, quietly.  She looked down at their hands, fingers interlocked.  "I was hurt by what you did, Carter.  I felt—feel like you did it to hurt me.  Because of what happened with Eric, because of something else I've done that pissed you off--made you decide not to ask me to marry you."  She looked back up at him then.  He squeezed her hand, to let her know that he was listening, that he was okay with whatever she had to say.  But she waited, enjoying the closeness of their bodies, the comfort in their hands entwined, their bellies touching, their breath intermingling in the space between them.  She wanted to stay there like that forever, never have to discuss anything more, just put all that had happened behind them and start fresh, new.  To forget their families and imperfections, and just be.  But she knew that, true to form, this would not last; this, too, would pass, and they would be left broken again, by each other.   

            Because of this reflection, she dropped his hand and moved to the side, away from him.  She wanted to continue her part of the conversation, but she knew what her next words would be ("because I'm not good enough") and what it would do, she knew how he would react, and she didn't want to start that all again.  So she felt better just walking away, and leaving the thought hanging there in the air, for him to pick up or leave, whichever he wanted.

            "I don't know what to say…I…I thought that we'd talked about this…"  He was grasping for words, trying to appease whatever had caused her to turn away.  At his words, she turned back to face him, from a few steps away.

            "No, Carter, we didn't talk about this," she replied, not with anger, but quietly, sadly.  "In fact, I don't think we've really talked about anything since that night.  We've talked, words have passed between us, we've given the impression of having a real conversation, but when you're finished, I have no idea what you're thinking."  She looked down again then, exhausted by her own words, her own thoughts, by the process of this.  She had pondered this conversation for weeks, and had thought it would go better.  Instead, they weren't getting anywhere, and she was so tired of it.  Not angry tired, just tired, worn out.  "Sometimes I think it isn't me you want, but some idea of me, some person who's **like** me, but without the complications, the negativity, the crazy." 

            "Sure, I'd love it if this weren't complicated, if everything went smoothly.  And I do wonder, at times, if it's all too much, that nothing can be worth all this work."  He stepped towards her then, something it seemed sometimes he was always doing, not the other way around.  She picked her eyes off the floor to look at him, to see his eyes searching her face.  What did he hope to find there?  When he continued, his words were barely a whisper, and there were tears threatening to fall from his eyes.  "But it's always you I want, Abby.  It's always been you."  Her face softened at these words, and his next phrase was even softer than the last.  "I love you, Abby."  With these words, the tension settled like dust around the room.  He came to her, put his arms around her, and kissed her.  Kissed her with the longing of months of missing her, since before the Congo, back to…whenever it was they stopped being this way with each other.  And in that kiss, he said all the 'sorrys' and 'please forgive mes' that no actual words could communicate.  And she did, too, as well as all the 'I forgive yous' that she wanted to speak but couldn't.  When their lips finally parted, there was a peace palpable in the air, as if something had been finished, and something newly begun.  And it was this peace that provoked Abby's next words, words she was so scared to utter, but so scared not to that she couldn't help it.

            "I love you too, Carter," she whispered, laughing and crying at the same time as she said it.  He grinned as he heard this declaration, something he'd been waiting to hear for…too long.  "I'm so glad you came back, and to me.  I was so scared, of so many things, when you left."  The smile fell from her face.  "I'm still so scared, Carter.  I don't want to believe too much in this, whatever 'this' is.  There's still so much—"  

            "Ssh," he said, putting a finger to her lips.  He kissed her again, lightly.  "Let's just be here, right now, please…"  And he kissed her again.  "I just missed you so much, Abby, and I don't want to talk anymore, no more of this back and forth, this complicated stuff…"  And now her neck, making a trail from her jaw to that spot where her shoulder met her neck.  She brought her hands up to his shoulders, then one into his hair, realizing how much she'd missed this, too.

            And they went to the bedroom, whispering to each other all the things they'd been wanting to say for so long, telling each other how much they felt, how much they loved, how much they cared.  Neither tried to presume that things were fixed between them.  They just loved each other, in the deepest and most intimate way they knew how, knowing that after, they would talk more, talk forever, until things were better.  

Until finally, after all this time, they could be the couple they had always wanted to be, always meant to be.

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       Author's Note: I thought that this would be the end of the chapters, and that I would end it with an epilogue, but it turns out there's a lot left to say, so I'm continuing with more chapters for now.  


	6. The Happy Ending

Author: Damnyankee

Rating: PG-13, just because

Summary: Continuing the idea behind trying to resolve things quickly instead of drawing them out in a TV fashion: what if?  Abby and Carter in their alternate universe…

Author's Note: Sorry this has taken a few days, but ff.net is being silly and I was trying to wait until I posted Chapter 5 before writing this.  Aw, well…guess I can't wait!!

Disclaimer: I don't own them, NBC/Crichton/whoever else owns them, yadda yadda yadda…

Chapter 6: The End

Later that day, laying in bed, the two lovers snuggled into each other, both silent but not sleeping.  They had made love, making up for time lost with each other, time missing each other, time arguing with each other.  Now they were left with the aftermath of their previous conversation, and the problem of what came next.  After a long time spent in silence, Abby finally spoke.  Her voice was quiet, trying hard not to break the spell.

            "Carter, what was Africa like?"  She was laying with her back to his chest, her head resting on his arm, their hands entwined.  She waited for his response, sensing that it couldn't be easy to answer the question.  He gently kissed her shoulder; she felt him take a deep breath, and then begin to speak.

            "It was incredible. And it was terrible. It was... it was kids with polio. It was kids dying from malnutrition, and malaria, and whooping cough."  He paused.  "And it was beautiful. I mean, the country's beautiful. Hospital doesn't have enough staff, so the patients', uh, family members, they stay with them. They cook for them, they clean for them, they even, uh, change the sheets. It was a life-changing experience. I just--don't know how yet."  He took another deep breath and she waited for him to continue, and when he didn't she spoke again.

            "Where's Luka?"  She felt him tense at this question, then relax again.  She didn't mean it in a spiteful way, just a curious way, but she knew his jealousy and that he would presume she meant it to hurt him.  

            "Uh, he's…Luka's fine.  He's staying there.  I think—I think he's found himself, in a way."  He kissed her shoulder again, and his fingers started working themselves between hers, fidgeting.  It was something he did when he was uncomfortable.  "I can't explain some of the things I saw there, Abby.  I was completely out of my element, completely thrown for a loop.  But, the longer I was there, the more I realized that there was so much I could do.  So much more than…"  He trailed off, not wanting her to make presumptions about what he was saying.

            "Here," she finished for him quietly.  They both resumed their previous silence, treading carefully, not wanting to veer off the path they'd carved so precisely not very long ago.  Again, Abby was the first to speak.  "Did you think about me?"

            "Yes."  His fingers stopped their fidgeting; he didn't know where she was going with this.

            "What did you think?"  She had wanted to ask him this question, like all the others, ever since he'd left.  She sought an understanding of what was going on inside him.  She just wanted him to let her in.  Ironically, he'd wanted the same thing of her for the past two years.

            "I guess…I don't know.  I thought about all the stuff I've been telling you.  Why you couldn't help me when Gamma died, why you had to go after your brother when, for once, **I **needed **you**."  This time it was her turn to brace herself.  To reassure her, he ran a finger down her bare hip.  "And then, I guess I kind of started to understand it.  Being in that place, you start to get a kind of clarity.  Like, the world we have here is so crazy, or we think it is, until we see it from outside.  And I knew--I sensed--that what you did had nothing to do with how you felt about me.  That, like so much else has been in our lives, it was just a matter of bad timing."  He felt her soften, both because of his touch and his words.  "And, of course, I thought about this; us, laying here in bed, close to each other, loving each other.  All I've wanted for so long is to just be able to love you completely, neither one of us holding anything back.  I know how hard that is for you, and for me sometimes, too."  He waited again, wanting to continue, but wanting her to say something.  When she spoke, he was surprised at her choice of words.

            "I think I want to go back to med school."  She held her breath, anticipating his response.  For a few seconds he said and did nothing, and then she felt him begin to laugh.  A soft, low chuckling; a sound she had missed so much.  She propped herself up on her elbows so that she could look at him, beginning to laugh herself.  "What?"

            "I pour my heart out to you, I tell you how much I've missed you, I offer my heart up on a plate, and you respond by telling me you're going back to med school?"  She swatted at his shoulder, but was laughing so hard that she barely touched him.  They looked at each other, just laughing, for a few moments.  Abby dropped back onto the bed on her side, this time facing him.  When the laughter stopped, both their faces returned to serious, and they were suddenly aware that they were looking at each other, and that this made the honesty harder.  But, of course, truer.

            "That's what I've been thinking about while you were gone.  That I have been so scared of so much for so long, and I'm sick of it.  I love being a nurse, but I know I'll be a great doctor, and I don't want to hide from that anymore."  She paused, wiping something invisible off his shoulder.  She had been looking in his eyes, but now she couldn't.  She had to look down; the feeling was too intense, and she didn't want him to see the tears starting in her eyes.  "With you, John, I don't have to be scared.  I mean, I am still sometimes, but you won't let me.  And after you left, and I thought I might never have you again, I knew that it was either sink or swim.  Sink, because I didn't believe in myself enough to swim without you, or get over it and swim on my own."  

            "And…?"  He brought her chin up with his hand, wanting to see her eyes, the tears starting to fall.

            "And, I couldn't sink anymore.  I've been 'sinking' for—well, it seems like forever.  You were right; I don't have to put my life on hold."  She took a deep breath, preparing herself for the soul-baring she was about to do.  "Everything good in my life, John, is because of you.  Has been for a long time.  And I can make it on my own, I can be happy, I can have what I want, without you.  Except that, you're one of the things I want most, and happiness without you is just…mediocre."  He had started to smile very stupidly, from ear to ear.  "What, what is it?"  

            "Nothing, it's just—I've wanted to hear you say this kind of stuff for so long, and I had started to think after…everything…that I might never.  That this whole thing between us was completely one-sided.  I think you may have just made me the happiest guy in America."  He kissed her then, rolling her onto her back, him on top of her.  When the kiss ended, they looked at each other, both now smiling stupidly.  "You know what I think?"

            "What?"  She responded, as she ran her fingers through his hair.  

            "I think we should move in together."  She cocked her head at him, surprised at this answer.

            "Yeah?"  She though about it for a moment, then nodded her head.  "You know, I think that's a great idea."  He started to kiss her neck in response.  "Oh, and that's a great idea, too.  Keep going with that one."  He mumbled something incoherent into her skin.  "I didn't catch that, Carter."  She giggled as his eyelashes tickled her earlobe.  "You realize this all could have ended very differently?  Before I found you on my couch, I was prepared to give you your key to my apartment back, and maybe end this."  He raised his head to meet her eyes, blinking curiously at her.

            "Really?"

            "Don't get upset about it.  I was pretty pissed at you.  But then I woke up, and I saw you sleeping there, and I had time to really think before I had to talk to you."  She ran her hand down his chest, hoping to reassure him.  He smiled at her, realizing that it didn't matter what she had **meant** to do; it mattered what had actually happened.  He resumed kissing her neck, working his way down to her chest.  "Remind me sometime, John, to tell you about the strange dream I had last night."  Again, he mumbled something she didn't understand.  "You don't know anyone named Kem, do you?"

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And Abby went back to med school and became an amazing doctor, and they moved in together, and then got married, and had many Carby babies!!  

A/N:  Thanks for reading my wonderful rendition of the carby life.  I had a good time writing this, and I'm hoping to write more soon.  Anything to keep my mind off of what TPTB are ACTUALLY making carby suffer through….Please read and review!!


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